Archer and Kestrel
by JuicyWizard
Summary: It's said that Archer and Kestrel were the most coordinated and effective infiltration duo out there, consisting of a Voron agent and a Third Echelon Splinter Cell. That Archer was ordered to kill his friend of so many years after Third Echelon was corrupted. That he failed, Kestrel killing him instead, and Kobin putting Kestrel into a coma. What's not said is that it was a ruse.
1. Chapter 1

"The intel you recovered from the Yastreb Complex allowed us to pinpoint the exact location of the EMP warheads." The handler, Archer didn't bother to remember her name, spoke over the communications system. "Gentlemen, they've been hiding in plain sight all along. Start at the Mozdok Proving Grounds in North Caucasus." Kestrel and Archer felt the truck stop and they tightened their grip on the bottom of it. "Unfortunately," Gunshots sounded, and the two men in the truck were dragged from their seats. "...the surviving members of Yastreb have already found a buyer for the EMP and aim to fly them out in the next 24 hours. That's precisely why our asset Andriy Kobin and his men are currently securing the Antonov Cargo Plane that Yastreb chartered for their little venture. Kestrel, Archer, we need you to take Mozdok off the grid in order to prevent local air defense from interfering with our local operation. In other words, we don't want to be shot out of the sky when you fly off with their precious warheads." The two killers took the truck seats and drove off. "Once you've taken out the comms hub on the other side of the vehicle garage, proceed immediately to the cargo hangar and rendezvous with Kobin's team for extraction. By then they should have loaded the warheads onto the plane." Archer and Kestrel dropped from the bottom of the truck as it parked and the men got out of the cab, moving out into the shadows next to the truck and examined this side of the garage. "Agents, one more thing. It's imperative that you avoid contact with enemy troops at all costs. One alarm-"

Archer interrupted. "Mission goes south, got it." He was in no mood to have this unfamiliar voice blabbing in his ear about stealth, something he already knew everything about. He and Kestrel climbed up a railing and crossed behind the truck, and could already see the two men in plain view across the way. They crept forward, then rolled through the light and climbed through some unloaded cargo. On the other side was a camera, which was easy to slip past using the classic hug-the-wall-underneath technique. Finally, the two got to a sort of observation deck, thus far unseen.

Archer felt Kestrel come up behind him and they looked at each other. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Losevski Anatolievich shut off the computer's monitor, just having finished logging the arrival of the final commandeered truck. Before he could turn around, someone seized him from behind and locked him in a chokehold. A pistol appeared in the corner of his eye, then a black-clad man with a red eye-piece and an identical pistol.

These were the infamous agents, the ones who operated in silence and shadow, never seen but always deadly. He was about to call out, but the arm clamped further onto his throat, a green eyepiece showed itself right next to his face, and the six most menacing words Losevski'd ever heard were whispered.

"Not a word, not a sound." Losevski was very compelled to listen, seeing as how he couldn't breath and there were two pistols ready to drop him. They didn't kill him, though, so he thought he was lucky. The green eyepiece led him to a doorway to the next room, which held all of the captured cargo. on shelves. He was led down the stairs and towards a shelf, and saw one of his comrades. He opened his mouth again, but the green eyepiece knew his intentions. "I told you; keep quiet, and I promise I won't hurt you." He stopped, and the red eyepiece grabbed his friend and dragged him into the shadows before killing him. Losevski was led out around the shelf, then under another toward the comms hub. He knew there were more of his friends inside, but he was not the type to turn down the offer he'd just gotten.

A bullet flew from the shadows behind Losevski and his captor, taking out another of his friends, Khalsikov. He resisted the urge to choke and retch at the sight of the dead Khalsikov crumple limply to the ground. Finally, they led him up the stairs, the second guard eerily missing, and pinned him to the ground. They both plugged some devices into the ground, where the comms hub drew its power. When they activated, the lights went out and the comms died. Losevski could hear the static in his earpiece and wanted nothing more than to rip it out. He was picked back up off the ground, but he wasn't ready to go out without a fight. And now the lights were out. They might have night vision eye-pieces, but the dark was still a problem. He elbowed his captor in the gut and tried to trip him up, but the red eyepiece punched him hard in the gut. He didn't choke; didn't have the breath to. Then the pistol slammed into the side of his head, making his ears ring even more. As he fell in the blackness, he heard the two assassins converse.

"Why didn't you kill him?" the one said, his half-breathed rasp making it clear that the elbow was successful.

"Because," the other said, a heavy Russian accent showing through, "you told him if he kept quiet you wouldn't hurt him. He resisted quietly."

Losevski fell to the blackness.

* * *

Losevski woke up, and knew he'd been out for far longer than any other nap he'd ever taken. The door to the next room was open, the one full of covered tanks and spotlights. Losevski cautiously entered, and saw bodies strewn across the whole room. He walked down the stairs, picking up a P228 pistol on the way, and moved through into a tunnel. Through there were two weapon crates, cracked open with a few empty ammunition slots. The next room was even more terrifying than the one full of dead people and tanks. There was nobody. Not a splash of blood, not a body. Everyone was gone. Not dead, gone. The turrets were disabled, the breaker box off. There was no light, no power to anything. Losevski continued down the many staircases, and nearly vomited again when he reached the bottom. Everyone who was supposed to be patrolling there had been dropped from the railings, everyone dead and on the extreme bottom, below even the accessible portion of the room. Losevski shook his head in disgust and turned around to continue through the complex. This was the end of the line. There was no access to the other parts of the building from here. There were two more bodies here, though, and Losevski looked around. There was no-

A tunnel. There was a tunnel from here into a lab that transferred gas and wires through the building. Losevski dropped into it and started to crawl, but the spies were resourceful. He saw a camera at a corner ahead. It powered on, moved around, and then shut off.

* * *

"That Russian's pursuing us," Archer said, putting down the camera remote.

"Detonate it," Kestrel said. "I don't care."

Archer shrugged and clicked the button for detonation, and watched the static spread across the screen before it shut off. "Good idea, putting up a camera. Thanks, Kestrel." He said. They had just cleared out the lab with the EMP warheads, and Kestrel was hacking to discharge them. They went off and fried all the electrical equipment in the room, but backup lights came on and backup troops stormed in in just a few minutes. There were a lot of men, more than they'd cleared before, and these ones were alert. No way they got out of this alive very easily.

"Kestrel," Archer said over his comms. "Let's go! We need to get out of here."

Just as he finished, Kestrel appeared next to him in the shadows of the topmost catwalk, and they both threw sticky cameras in opposite directions. They hit the sound button on their remotes, then threw the remotes over there too. The cameras played old music and the sounds of footsteps, and, though they all knew it was a distraction or a trap, the soldiers figured they'd better check it out. Using that cover, Archer and Kestrel got through the lit areas, down the pipes, and out their previously-marked escape route. They'd have to be careful for this next-

"Grenade!" Kestrel shouted, and dove back. Archer looked up and dove with him, and the grenade detonated. Archer shook his head in disappointment at his sluggish response time. Four men walked into the corridor, but the two agents dropped them with a hail of bullets. They moved into the next room, killing everyone before moving on and letting the EMP warheads get through the doors. That was how they took the next five rooms until the EMP got through to the cargo hangar, where they saw Kobin and the plane waiting.

"Took your goddamn time getting here!" Kobin said, none to their liking. "Another ten seconds, and you would've been walking home, money or no money."

"They will rush the hangar soon," Kestrel told him. "How long must we wait?"

"We got the engines lit, okay?" Kobin said, in an obvious panic. "You just keep these goddamn Russians off long enough for us to get the EMP strapped down. Then we're out of here."

The doors to the cargo hold busted open, and two machine gun trucks sped in.

"i'm heading up the the flight deck," Kobin yelled over the noise. "Cover me!"

There was no way they could stay hidden here. Kestrel and Archer drew their submachine guns, and started firing. The lights shattered, men dropped, and gasoline jerry cans exploded. But as one man died, two rushed in from outside, and the turrets on the trucks didn't break, and they had lights. Archer and Kestrel saw a room above, and they knew that there was a power source inside. They could plug in their portable EMPs and magnify the blast, frying the turrets. They rushed for it, dropping men until they were out of bullets. When that happened they threw their guns in front of the automated turrets as a distraction, drawing their pistols and rushing upstairs. There, they plugged in their EMPs and discharged them in only a few seconds, then jumped from the window and sprinted toward the cargo plane.

"Watch, it, Kestrel!" Archer said, and a frag grenade exploded in front of them. It caught a large container of gasoline, and that exploded as well. The two agents were thrown back, their pistols lost. Now they were limited to only their karambit, Archer a green one and Kestrel a red. They rose and kept running, their vests catching bullets and their blades catching flesh. Finally they reached the plane and found cover.

"Dammit!" Kobin said. "They hit the hydraulic chamber. I can't raise the ramp. We'll have to do it manually."

Archer and Kestrel closed the cargo hold door, and the plane took off.

* * *

Archer washed his hands, just having finished stripping his gear. He wore only his pants and boots, and his gray shirt and earpiece. It beeped, and Archer clicked it.

"Go for Archer."

"Why aren't you answering your OPSAT?"

"I don't have it with me. What's wrong?"

"Where's Agent Kestrel?"

"On the cargo deck sleeping, why?"

Across the plane, Kestrel awakened and saw Archer's OPSAT, and it was ringing like crazy.

"Archer! Answer your comm, moi droog!" he said. When Archer didn't appear, Kestrel looked at the OPSAT for him. It said three simple words.

 _ELIMINATE AGENT KESTREL._

"Terminate him," Archer heard over his earpiece. He shut it off, but he already knew what he had to do.

Kestrel rose, pulling his karambit from its sheath. He snuck across the cargo hold, knowing that Archer would've received his orders. As he slunk, though, he saw someone out of the corner of his eye. He dove forward and came up with his karambit, finding the point at Archer's throat.

"You're not really going to do this, are you?" Archer asked him quietly.

"No. And you, moi droog?"

"Absolutely not. You're no double agent, no threat. Voron and Third Echelon have no rivalry. It's a conspiracy."

Kestrel smiled. "Whoever wins this battle is going to be killed. Kobin's in the shadows."

"All right," Archer said. "Follow my lead."

He pushed Kestrel's blade down and swung, but it was slightly more telegraphed and less swift than he usually fought. Kestrel dodged the knife and made a stab of his own, but Archer rolled under it and stabbed. Kestrel's short blade miraculously caught Archer's, and he pushed him back. Archer gave ground, backing toward where Kestrel had been sleeping. They kicked and stabbed and punched, but all strikes were dodged or blocked. They backed up further, and Kestrel let Archer slam him into some crate of cargo. They were very near Kobin now, and he no doubt thought he was unseen. Finally, Kestrel stabbed at Archer and he dodged, right into Kobin, then placed his blade against his throat.

"How-" Kobin started, but Archer wouldn't have it.

"SHUT UP!"

Kestrel approached from the side and took Kobin's pistol, while Archer dragged him to the EMP warheads. There, they tied him up and knocked him unconscious, then entered the cockpit.

"Archer, Kestrel. What can I do for you?" the pilot asked, and that helped convince the two agents that they weren't in on the conspiracy.

"Lower the altitude. We're diving."

"Afraid I can't let you do that," the copilot said, rising with a pistol in hand.

"Colin, what-" the pilot asked, alarmed. Archer stabbed the copilot before he could do anything else, so the pilot calmed down slightly.

"It's a conspiracy, Frederick," Kestrel said to the pilot. "We need to dive, now."

* * *

"Frederick?" Archer asked over his comms, once again getting rid of his extra equipment and stripping down to just the shirt and pants.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you already get the plastic surgeon on it?"

"Yes, sir." Frederick said.

"Thank you, Frederick."

Archer shut off his comms and turned to Kestrel.

"So tell me what it is you did," Kestrel said.

"I had Frederick hire a surgeon to work on some bodies from the Mozdok grounds. They were made to look exactly like us, and are being delivered to Kobin by some agents, those who escaped the corruption. In a few minutes, he'll think that some Third-Echelon goons killed us after we escaped. We're in the clear."

"Good. Now, what's the plan?"

"Well," Archer said, looking over the small abandoned Third Echelon hideout they'd captured and reactivated. "First we take down the FBI."


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter's a bit shorter than I wanted, but I think it ends well so I'll leave it.**

 _"What the hell?" Archer asked aloud. These Russian bastards were liars. They had posed as a branch of the Voron agency, and Archer had been sent to assist them in a mission and help to validate their alliance with Third Echelon. Archer had doubted that until someone had attacked him, and then he'd had no doubt. These were of the same mercenary force they were pretending to rival. Now he was in a tough situation. He'd just gone into the basement of the fake Voron hideout, now realizing he was trapped down there with a houseful of Russian mercenaries above him. He crept up the stairs, and saw two sitting at a table playing cards. He could only see one at a time while staying hidden, and he knew he'd be caught regardless of what he did. He could shoot one, but the other would raise the alarm. He could move into the light where he could shoot both quickly, but they'd both see him in the well-lit room. No way he escaped this, so he prepared. He could already see the open cage door at the top of the stairs, and he knew that it was a sort of prison. It would be easy to hide weapons below, so he did. His Five-Seven went into a cardboard box under a book, an EMP grenade with it, and he picked up the pistol of the man he'd just killed. Next he crept back up the stairs, fired the weapon at one of the card players, and ran up, pretending not to see the other. He was tackled, his weapons taken, and his outfit stripped from him. He was given a glorified burlap sack to wear, and he was thrown into the basement and the door locked behind him._

 _"Why is my cell the entire FUCKING basement?!" he shouted, hoping they would hear his fake anger._

 _"It's not," a Russian accent said from the shadows. "THE cell is the entire fucking basement. I've been imprisoned, too."_

 _"And how do I know-"_

 _"They didn't send me down here to spy on you and make sure you're not up to no good?"_

 _"Yes..." Archer said, his suspicion growing._

 _"Because they did that to me, and I killed their man. And, why would I tell you my intentions if I was that man?"_

 _"I suppose. Name?"_

 _"Can't give it to you. I'm called Kestrel by Voron and Third Echelon."_

 _"Archer."_

* * *

Archer woke up, and found himself in a very similar situation. Only this time, he was being held by the FBI. He'd been caught on the way in, and now he had no chance of getting rid of the corruption within. Fully half of the FBI was working under Kobin and his allies, and were trying at the same dirty goals. He had still to figure out what those goals were, besides that they were against the interests of former Third Echelon and the U.S. Government. Very against. That corruption had started with the director of the FBI. Archer would've called him a snake in the grass, but that would be an insult to snakes. And grass.

"Alright, seven o'clock," a voice said outside. Archer knew what it meant. He was interrogated every day at 9 in the morning, 3 in the afternoon, and 7 in the evening. Hadn't said anything yet, though. He stood and walked toward the cell door, then turned around, placed his hands on his head, and knelt. The cell door opened, Archer put in cuffs, and the agent hauled him to his feet and walked him toward the interrogation room. While Archer was told to keep his head down, he knew where it was just from how many times he'd gone. 80 paces down the first hallway, right turn, ten paces, left turn, three paces, door closes, sit down, at the interrogation table.

"Alright," the agent said again. "Same questions as usual. Name?"

"Archer." The agent, as he'd done for the last few interrogations, mouthed Archer's responses along with him.

"No it's not. Real name?"

Nothing.

The agent sighed, becoming more and more tired of this routine. "Why'd you try to break in?"

Silence.

Another sigh. "How did you plan to get in without any equipment?" The agent shrugged and looked around, as though searching for Archer's gear.

Archer smirked.

"Any partners?"

"A bird, a Kestrel." Archer said. Once again, the agent mouthed the answer, but didn't get his meaning.

"A bird? Where is it?"

"Coming."

"From?"

"Nowhere."

The agent sighed a third time and stood Archer up, escorting him back to his cell. "See you tomorrow," he said, as tiredly as before.

"See you, Chief," Archer said. He hoped that agent wasn't killed in the crossfire. He hadn't been corrupted, for one, and Archer quite liked him. Not only that but he knew Archer wasn't malicious or deserving of this prison, besides for the breaking in part.

"Hey, moi droog," Kestrel's voice sounded behind Archer.

"Hey, Chief," Archer told his friend.

"Ready to go?" Kestrel asked, and a Five Seven appeared at Archer's left elbow. He reached across and took it, nodding.

"Don't kill the one I just spoke with, if you can help it."

"I won't be killing any except our targets, if I can help it."

"Good," Archer said.

"Here." A small bag landed at Archer's feet. Tied to it were the sleeves and pant-legs of Archer's 3E Eclipse outfit, and inside were Archer's gadgets: Flash-bangs, frags, and remote/proximity mines. He put on the outfit and strapped the bag on, then shot the lock off the cell and strolled out into the corridor. Archer's assigned interrogation agent hadn't left yet, was talking to some other prisoner about something. He glanced up at them, then looked back at his prisoner.

"We need you to come in for an interview. You can't-" his head suddenly snapped back up, hand in his suit jacket, mouth clamped shut. Then he continued. "You can't skip this one, especially if you want me to present evidence of your innocence. Come on." The agent nodded to Archer, and Archer nodded back before he turned back to his prisoner.

"Let's go, moi droog," Kestrel said, and Archer turned to follow him. They disappeared into another corridor, and three men were already waiting for them, weapons up. Kestrel fired twice, and Archer broke the third man's neck. They continued forward down the hallway, eyes scanning every doorway. Apparently Kestrel had memorized a list of names and faces to eliminate, because he kept speaking over the radio.

"Not them, moi, droog. Not them." Finally they turned a corner and found two men, facing away. They stood and took the two in chokeholds, and Kestrel examined their faces carefully. "Yes, these." The two agents simultaneously broke the men's necks, and found that they were at the end of the line. The only option was another room. Kestrel clicked the radio again. "Three more targets, then the director. First man is a tall one, African-American, with a shaved head and a light beard. The next is an older gentleman, half-Italian, with a gray beard and crooked eyes. Finally, there's the woman, somehow the only blonde one in the FBI. The director is brunette, has a shadow of a beard, and no sense of humor. Let's go."

Archer opened the door and saw three men there, and one woman. They were exactly as Kestrel had described them. Archer fired at the Italian and the woman, and Kestrel took the other two. They all fell to the deck, and Kestrel radioed in for EVAC.

* * *

"It seems the killer was either crouching the whole time, or put the agents on their faces and shot them that way," the CSI said.

Agent Liam raised the skeptic's eyebrow he was known for, and glanced at the boy. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, all bullets fired entered the skull at a low angle," the CSI said nervously.

"And what happened to the ones who weren't shot?"

"They were bludgeoned, sir, beat with elbows or hands, and often their necks broken."

"How many were killed?"

"Eight, sir, and only three managed to draw weapons. There were four in one room that couldn't even reach for them."

"All killed by one man?"

"It would appear so. The bullets used were 5.7s, though the approximate velocity was higher than the Five Seven pistol, and every bullet was fired the same way."

"So we have eight dead agents, none with fired bullets, three with drawn weapons, killed by one man using 5.7 bullets in a weapon modified to take them?"

"Yes."

"And aside from that?"

"Nothing."

"Eight dead agents," Liam said again, "killed by an unknown assailant, in an unknown fashion, with an unknown weapon, from an unknown organization, with unknown motives, unknown whereabouts, taking an unknown route into several rooms with an unknown pattern, killing agents with unknown connections?"

"Yes," the CSI said.

"Great," Agent Liam said sarcastically. "When I get back to the new director, I'll write you up for a promotion."

* * *

Kestrel dropped to the floor, happy to finally be able to stretch his arms. He'd been hanging from the chandelier for an hour now, and Kobin's emergency meeting with his guards had been his only respite. Now he had the chance to take the fake Kestrel from the body bag and slip in himself, ready with the trap. Archer would have quite a bit more trouble; the fake Archer's bag was open, and he wasn't wearing any headgear, but the real one couldn't afford to lose time putting his back on when the fighting started. He would have to be exceptionally unremarkable if he was going to pull this off.

Finally, the guards came back. They started talking about the 'goons,' referring to the dead Archer and Kestrel, but quickly moved on to something else.

Then there was a cough, the familiar pop of a suppressor, and Kestrel heard a body fall. Archer likely saw what had happened. This was confirmed when the guards exploded with activity, and Archer used the distraction to use the comms.

"Fisher's here," Archer said.

"Fisher?" Kestrel asked, more free to speak as his face was hidden. "Sam Fisher, the retired prodigy?"

"Yeah. The near super-human agent? The True Shadow? That's him. I can see him. Still looks like that picture of him at twenty-four, if a little more gray."

"Should we go, then?"

"No. Kobin's goons aren't 3ECH, we need to wait for them."

Fisher dropped the final three men, then the chandelier, and it was all Kestrel could do to keep waiting. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Archer opened his body bag and helped him to his feet.

"Let's go, Sam's moved on. We can get rid of whomever he leaves behind, and hopefully get to him before 3ECH does."

* * *

And get to him they did. The two agents, having just picked their way through scattered bodies and bullet hole-strewn walls, entered Kobin's final defense point in time to see Fisher slap the G36C rifle from the old bastard's hands, and grab him by the throat.

"Andriy Kobin." Fisher's voice echoed clearly across the spacious room. "Were you saying something about my daughter?"

"Finally someone gives him what he deserves," Archer muttered.

"Oh, God, no!" Kobin panicked. "I was just messing with you, man! I didn't mean it! I swear, I didn't mean it!"

Then make it up to me," Fisher growled as he choked Kobin into the most uncomfortable position possible. "Tell me why you killed her."

"I can't tell you! All you can do is kill me!" Odd how much spite he had at a time like this.

"Wrong answer," Fisher chuckled, and dragged the half-breathing ass over to the piano. There, he slammed the man's face into the keys, then punched so hard they shattered.

"It was just a job!" Kobin choked while Fisher hauled him to his feet. "They just gave me a picture and told me to provide a body! That's all it was, a dump job!"

"'They' isn't good enough." Fisher slowly pushed Kobin away from the piano. "Who were you working for?"

"I can't tell you!" Kobin was panicking again, trapped with a dilemma that would end either in torture or torture. "I'm still working for them! They'll gut me if I tell you!"

Fisher shook his head in disappointment, and half-threw Kobin out the window. The man was bent back-first over the sill, and the glass shattered and shredded his face. The sound of a helicopter's engine swelled in the air, and Sam dropped his hostage.

"Here we go," Kestrel said, and he and Archer took their positions in the shadows.

"They're not the ones you should be worried about right now," Fisher said, hauling Kobin to his feet.

"You don't get it, Fisher! They're bigger than you! They're bigger than _me!"_

Archer drew his pistol as the sound of the helicopter neared again, this time not stopping. Sam held a pistol to Kobin's head, a second before the skylight shattered and Third Echelon dropped in.

"Drop it, Fisher! Drop it now!"

"Move away from the hostage and you will not be hurt."

"Don't move!"

"Give me an excuse, Fisher, just one goddamn excuse!"

The SC3000s and various pistols pointed at Fisher, and Archer knew even he couldn't handle them all. There was a quiet exchange, and Fisher finally dropped his weapon. He was shot with a dart and collapsed, and Archer and Kestrel went to work. Four bullets flew from the shadows within a second, and as many 3ECH men fell.

"GET FISHER OUT OF HERE!" one yelled, and the unconscious Splinter was dropped through a window. Two agents followed him out, and the rest shot at Archer and Kestrel. There were only four left now, but they had the very same equipment as their targets. Archer pulled his SMG and started to shoot, but only dropped one more agent. Kestrel did the same, and now they ran to a slightly less destroyed scrap of cover. The last two discarded their empty rifles and sprinted forward, their black steel karambit coming from their sheaths. The two rogue agents drew their own green and red karambit and ran to meet their adversaries. They had left 3ECH a while ago, but each could guarantee they had more experience than these corrupted bastards. Archer slipped under a swing and jabbed forward, then turned and kicked out the other man's foot. Kestrel took the opportunity to stab, then rolled through and slashed his adversary's hamstring. The agent screamed and fell to his knee, letting Kestrel vault him and kick the other in the face. Archer slashed his stunned opponent's arm, then across his ribs, cut his opposite wrist, then broke his knee with a kick.

Now both agents writhed on the ground, and Archer and Kestrel sheathed their blades.

"Why would you leave us like this you damned bastards? Now we'll spend the rest of our lives in wheelchairs!"

Archer and Kestrel shared a look, then looked their enemies in the eyes.

"No, you won't," they said simultaneously, and broke the agents' necks.


End file.
